Audrey is a university student moving to Westmeath, Ireland. She quickly learns that a certain green-haired Youtuber is her new roommate...however, there's just one tiny problem... he has a "brother" named Anti
Be sure to check out its sequel, The G...
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Hey there!!
I just realised, while reading through my story, that it sounds like I'm only writing this because I could become 'famous'. In truth, that's not it at all. I'm writing this story so hopefully somebody, somewhere can get a small bit of happiness from it. That's also why I'm trying to keep it kid- friendly. So yeah. I appreciate everybody who takes the time to read this story.
Also, now I've gotten that off my chest, I want to apologise for the late upload. I hope no hair was teared out 😝 Oh, and happy Easter (I know I'm late... cut me some slack)
So thank you all, and please enjoy part 13!! Prepare for tears if you cry at sad stories! And be prepared for a long part!
"TOP OF THE MORNING TO YA LADDIES, MY NAME IS JACKSEPTICEYE, and today, we're going to mess around with Jerry some more!"
I smiled at Jack's familiar intro. He didn't want to make a video. He'd wanted to spend more time with me, but I'd made him, telling him that his fans would be disappointed. I listened outside his door every video now. I don't know why. It made me happy, knowing he'd have his fans to fall back on when I died, but it made me sad too, knowing I'd have to leave him behind when I died.
I stifled a sob.
"JERRY! Fly higher, Ye bastard!"
I closed my eyes. It'd been three days since Jack had told me those three words. It'd been a miracle I had dared not to dream. A dream come true. My thoughts fluttered back to my late teen years, just coming out of the dark years when my three sisters had died in a car crash. For months afterward, my mother and father had locked themselves away from me and my little brother. Mum refused to drive since then, and Dad was always too drunk to, so Hayden and I walked everywhere. He was thirteen on that horrible day Marianna, Ashley and Holly died. I was fifteen. And in the middle of the days where we ate nothing but what I cooked, when mum cried for days on end, when Dad was passed out drunk on the bed, I watched an Irish man play games.
He brightened the days that were filled with darkness, even after my dad left and mum tried to commit suicide so many times I'd lost count. He helped me.
Then my brother fell sick. He had pneumonia, and I had to treat him at home, because we couldn't afford a hospital. He was so bad, I had to do something I hadn't done in weeks.
Tell mum.
I ventured down the hall, to the old door that was always shut, and knocked timidly. No one answered, so I opened the door and went in myself.
My mother was curled up on the bed, her eyes blotchy from crying. Countless tissues littered the ground. Bottles still lay from when Dad had left a week ago.
